The 57th Hunger Games
by MyAutumnMelody
Summary: Twenty-four of us go into that arena. Only one comes out alive. How can anyone have the heart to kill someone else? I know I don't. But what would happen if the other tribute from your district was your best friend? What else would happen if you wanted to be more than friends? Rated T because it's the Hunger Games. Please R & R!
1. The Reaping

The 57th Hunger Games

XXXXXXXXXX

The Hunger Games. An annual monstrosity that takes twenty-four innocent boys and girls to slaughter. With only one survivor remaining.

XXXXXXXXXX

Long long ago, in the ruins of a place once called North America, war broke out amongst the humans to take control over what little of the land remained wiped out from floods, storms, and plagues. The result was the nation of Panem. A shining capitol surrounded by thirteen outlying districts, each manufacturing their own main export. Then, the Dark Days began. A rebellion led by the thirteen districts against the Capitol. The Capitol won. Twelve districts defeated, the thirteenth obliterated into absolute nothingness. And to remind the twelve remaining districts just how powerless they are against the Capitol, the Hunger Games were created.

The rules themselves are pretty simple. Each district is to provide a young boy and girl between the ages of twelve to eighteen. They are called tributes. The young boy and girl are selected during a public Reaping, in which someone from the Capitol, known as an escort, comes to a district and randomly selects the tributes by picking their name from a bowl. The tributes are then taken to the Capitol with their mentor. He or she is a past victor from the same district as the tributes. The tributes then go through opening ceremonies, training, and interviews. Then the Hunger Games _really_ begin. The twenty-four tributes are then thrown into an outdoor arena that can contain anything from a scorching desert to a frozen tundra. Then over a period of several weeks, the tributes must fight to the death, with one left standing. The winning tribute is sent home with fame and fortune. Whereas, twenty-three other families across Panem will be mourning over the loss of a loved one.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Twenty-four of us go into that arena. Only one comes out alive. How can anyone have the heart to kill someone else? I know I don't. But what would happen if the other tribute from your district was your _best friend_? What else would happen if you wanted to be _more_ than friends?_

XXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 1 **

**Maria's POV**

I am standing in the town square alongside my best friend Parker Hallaway and other kids my age for the reaping of the 57th Hunger Games.

My name is Mariposa Dulark. You can call me Maria. I am fourteen years old. And I'm just slightly afraid. Just slightly.

I know what you're thinking. _What the heck?! You're only fourteen! You should feel like you're in mortal danger! _Don't worry. You are completely right. But, I don't just feel like I'm in mortal danger. I _am_ in mortal danger.

Why, you might ask? Because I'm going to volunteer as tribute.

You're now probably thinking that I'm crazy. Thinking that I'm a masochist. Thinking that I'm about to commit suicide.

So what if I am?

I have a good reason for it anyway. Three years ago, my brother was reaped and killed in the Hunger Games. Ever since then, I have despised the cruel Capitol for what they do. How could they be so heartless? How could they just sit down and watch people die, just for their own entertainment?

The people of the Capitol are cold. _Very, very cold._

Ever since my brother, Mason, died, the only person I had left was Parker. Both of my parents died in a forest fire when I was six and Mason was ten. To this day, I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night for my parents to run, my throat filled with burning ash and smoke. Parker was, no scratch that. Parker _is _my only family. He's the only one I told about my planning to volunteer. His face remained blank, Stoic, completely emotionless. But you could see it in his eyes. He was entirely devastated.

I look around my town square. Well, depending on the name, it's a near perfect square, which most of the population of District 7 is crowded into. The it is one of the only parts of our district that's cleared out of trees besides the Justice Building and the Victor's Village. The houses are built within the forests, under the high canopies of the trees. I think I forgot to mention, District 7's exports are anything tree related. Namely, lumber and paper. Cameramen are perched high in the trees to capture every single moment on film to broadcast out to all of Panem. Banners are hanging up in festive colors, which made the town square look almost festive. Which I think is _really _stupid. Why should the Capitol make us treat the Hunger Games as a celebration? Watching people die isn't exactly the best form of entertainment in my opinion.

Then again, I don't live in the Capitol.

I look around at the children around me, restrained by the velvet ropes. The twelve-year-olds. All fretful and scared for their first reaping at the back of the crowd. Odds are, they're not going to get chosen. Very little people in our district take tesserae. Our job pays very well, at least to keep us fed and alive. I look over to the front of the crowd at the eighteen year-olds. They all have their name entered at least seven times. Give or take the tesserae. The ones most likely to end up being reaped. Just this last reaping, and then they're home free. Then all the kids in between, and they're all thinking the exact same thing. _Don't let it be me, don't let it be me, don't let it be me. _Well, they don't _anything _to worry about. Because it _will_ be me.

We're all in our best clothes, which are hard to find since our regular working clothes have several cuts here and there. Parker is in a light brown button-down shirt and khaki pants. He's trying to avoid meeting eyes by sweeping his tan hair in front of his hazel eyes. I look away from him and reevaluate what I'm wearing myself. A pine green ruffle blouse that matches my eyes and a dark brown pencil skirt with matching shoes. My long hair is put up in a ponytail. Even with my hair up, the brown waves fall to my shoulder blades.

A microphone static pierces the air, and our mayor comes up onto the stage. He's a really nice man who would actually let us keep the extra merchandise that we produce, if it weren't for the Peacekeepers. He reads the list of the past District 7 victors. We've had exactly fifteen victors. Eight of them are still alive. Some of them died from alcohol or drug addictions. Some of them from more natural causes like old age or heart attack. This year, our mentors will be Amber Hemlock and Ryder Albatross.

Amber won using her namesake. In her Hunger Games, it came down to her and a boy from District 1. Amber found hemlock plants in the arena, a deadly poisonous plant when consumed. She snuck some of the hemlock into District 1's water skin. He died in less than thirty seconds flat. Ryder, on the other hand, should owe his victory to his job. He took his strength from chopping wood all these years and hacked down the other tributes using nothing but a hatchet. He was a ruthless killing machine. I wonder what the families of all the other tributes that year thought of all the blood...

Amber and Ryder stand up from their chairs and wave to the crowd. As far as I know, Amber loves the attention she always gets during this time of year. She's always a people-pleaser, and you can't help but want to be her friend. She looks near perfect, as if it were her job to be pretty. Her sienna brown hair cascades down her back in glossy waves, framing her bright-green, calculating eyes. It was as if she had a hundred thoughts running through her mind at once. Ryder also has the same attitude towards large audiences. He's drinking up the applause as if his life depended on it. He tosses his close-cropped brown hair back. You can practically hear the girls from the Capitol swooning.

Then, the escort from the Capitol takes the microphone._"_Welcome everybody to the Reaping of the 57th annual Hunger Games!" pipes Viola Lorrae. All 20,000 heads of District 7 swerve her way. Viola, straight from the Capitol with her corkscrew curls dyed an artificial lavender color, her bright aqua dress, and her silly Capitol accent - I never understand why the people of the Capitol do so much to change their natural look. It's just so _hideous. "_And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" I look back over to Parker and try to meet his eye. I cautiously put my hand on his shoulder.

"Parker," I whisper into his ear "Look at me," he turns his back on me.

"I'll just see you in the Justice Building. Okay?" Parker asks. I stare into his deep hazel eyes, and I painfully watch as a single tear rolls down his cheek.

"Okay," I whisper back. Parker shoves his hands deep into his pockets and walks away, fading away into the crowd.

Parker is the only person that I told about my planning to volunteer. He hated me for about a month. All I want to do is avenge my brother. "Are you _crazy?!" _ he screamed at me. "You're going to get yourself killed!". I can still hear his voice, full of angst and agony, echoing through my mind.

I turn my attention back onto the stage. "Ladies first," Viola declares. She crosses over to the bowl containing the girls' names. Viola Lorrae plunges her hand and stirs it around. She snatches a slip of paper out and holds it up. The entire town square draws in a breath at once. Viola smooths the piece of paper out and walks over to the microphone. You can now hear a pin drop. "Seranda Vermillion," In a few minutes, I watch a girl with dirty-blonde hair make her way onto the stage in small, stiff steps. She looks maybe fifteen? Sixteen years of age? She's trying to cover up, but you can tell that she's close to breaking down."Any volunteers?" asks Viola. I turn to try to find Parker, but he's lost in the sea of people. If only I could just explain…

I slowly rise my hand into the air and choke the words out. "I volunteer!" I shout into the still air. All heads turn to find the source of the voice. The crowd of fourteen-year-olds around me stare with their mouths open in utter disbelief. They're probably thinking, _Are you completely insane?! _

"Well, that's the spirit!" Viola cheers. "Come on up, sweetheart!" I wince at her usage of the word 'sweetheart'. I make my way up the stage and try hard to mask my emotions. I hear people gasp as they see that the bold volunteer is no one but a mere fourteen-year-old. Some of them remember me as the orphan girl. The girl who has no family. The girl who only has one friend. To others, they only see me as dead meat. I finally get onto the stage and Viola waves me towards the microphone. "What's your name?" she asks into the microphone.

"Mariposa Dulark," I choke out.

"Dulark?" Viola questions me "You're brother was a tribute in the Hunger Games a few years ago, didn't he?". Is she really _that_ heartless as to remind me of my brother's death in front of all of District 7, in front of all of Panem? In response to her thoughtless question, I numbly nod. "Well, how about that?" she addresses the audience in a cheery voice. "Well then, onto the boys!". Viola walks over to the large glass bowl and does the same protocol as before. Viola walks over to the microphone and everyone holds in a breath, yet again. _ Well, it's time to meet my fellow tribute,_ I think as Viola Lorrae reads off the name. While I was hoping for a name that sounded completely foreign to me, I got the exact opposite. "Parker Hallaway,"

XXXXXXXXXX

** Hello people of the Internet! So, I just posted the first chapter, because I wasn't sure if it would be any good or not. If you enjoyed this or want me to continue this story, please tell me in the comments! I love you! 3**


	2. The Train Ride

**Chapter 2**

**Maria's POV**

During the fatal forest fire, my throat was filled with burning smoke. My lungs were screaming for oxygen, and as I was gasping for air, I couldn't breathe. As if I forgot how to breathe. My mind muddled as so I couldn't think clearly. And that's how I feel now.

Parker? Parker! Out of _all_ the slips in that bowl she pulled out _Parker's _name? This isn't good. Once we get into the arena, Parker will become my enemy, my adversary. And that could unravel the very fabric of our friendship. How can I overlook that? How can he?

I find his face in the crowd, his eyes as large as bowls as the news settles down on him. When Parker finally registers it, he makes his way onto the stage. He drops his head as he passes by me. Viola asks for volunteers. A slight breeze whistles in response. Then, our mayor reads the Treaty of Treason as he's required to. But I drown out his speech as my mind goes numb. _Why Parker? Does fate really hate me _that_ much? _Only one person gets out of that arena alive, and it sure as heck isn't going to be either of us. But I still couldn't bear the though of being without him. I loved him like a sibling, and Parker shares the same feelings towards me. In the past, he's even hinted at wanting to become something more. I guess now it will never happen…

The Peacekeepers usher us into the Justice Building, where a tribute is allowed to say their final goodbyes to their loved ones. With Parker in a different room, I have no one else that I care about. Whereas Parker is saying goodbye to his father and to his little sisters**, **Larissa, and Gwenevere. Like my parents, Parker lost his mother to the forest fire. I take a look around the room I am in. I repeatedly run my fingertips over the smooth satin cushion that I'm sitting on. It's such a contrast to working with hard, course wood on a daily basis.

A car takes the five of us Viola, Ryder, Amber, Parker and me to the train that will whisk us away to the Capitol. When we get there, cameras and reporters launch themselves at us to snap everlasting pictures or film our faces for all of Panem to see. They love us. Better yet, they can't wait to watch us get sadistically slaughtered.

The moment we step into the train and the doors shut tight behind us, and the train speeds off. I stumble to the ground because of the sudden acceleration, but Amber and Viola pull me right back up onto my feet. Great. I just humiliated myself in front of , won't this be a fun ride?

**Parker's POV**

After watching Maria fall onto her butt, I grab onto the thing that's closest to me to steady myself. Unfortunately, that closest thing happens to be Ryder. He glares at me and I take my hands off and slowly back away as if he were some sort of rabid animal. Depending on how he became a victor…that's pretty believable. Viola waves me over to the dining room for dinner.

Viola, Amber, and Ryder sit next to each other on one side of the rectangle table and Maria and I sit next to each other across from them. The tablecloth is kelly green, which I guess is meant specifically for our district. People dressed in white aprons silently bring out our appetizer. A baby spinach salad sprinkled with dried cranberries and and chopped walnuts with a light vinaigrette dressing. "Who are they?" I ask referring to the waiters.

"Who? The Avoxes?" asks Viola with her eyebrows raised.

"What's an Avox?" I ask confused

"Honestly, Parker. Do you even pay attention in school?" Maria asks kiddingly "An Avox is a slave for the Capitol,"

I catch Viola's eyes staring between Maria and me. "Mariposa, Parker-"

"You can call me Maria," Maria interrupts

"So Mariposa and Parker," Viola continues. I hear Maria give a small huff of exasperation. "Do you to know each other? You seem like you do," Viola says

"Yes, we're best friends," I answer

I watch as Viola creases her eyebrows, unreadable. Avoxes come out to bring the entree. It's grilled chicken over angel hair pasta tossed with a creamy Alfredo pasta. Back in District 7, I've only had food like this on special occasions, and even then it was in poor comparison to the Capitol's version. I notice that no one has said anything in about five minutes, but I don't say anything either. Viola's the one who tries to get the ball rolling. "Why so quiet all of a sudden?" she asks to no one in particular.

"Well, I don't know," I answer "Maria and I are just trying to figure out if we'll have enough time to write out our wills," I look over to Maria and see her rolling her eyes. I silently smirk to myself, and I look up to see Amber picking at the chicken and Ryder trying hard not to burst out in laughter. Dessert comes out about twenty minutes later. It's a light fruit salad with a sort of brown candy in various shapes. Amber says is called chocolate. It's so good that I leave the fruit alone and just eat the chocolate.

When it's finally bedtime, I climb under the soft sheets just wearing my reaping outfit. Lying here, I'm finally able to think over my day. Why did it have to be me? I went through enough pain imagining Maria in that arena. Now I'm going to be thrown into that arena too. With her. I've had a crush on Maria ever since I laid eyes on her in kindergarten when she asked to borrow a piece of my paper. I sat next to her and I watched as she sketched out part of the woods with a pencil. Seriously, that drawing was amazing for a five-year-old. And over the years, Maria went from cute, to pretty, to seriously beautiful. With her long brown hair cascading down in waves, her deep emerald eyes, her… Whoa. I have got it _ba-ad_. I cross my hands over my stomach and stare up at the ceiling. I fall asleep thinking of what good memories I have with Maria still existing in my mind.

I'm woken up by Viola's overly perky voice outside my door tell me to "get up and at 'em!". I'm so tired that I roll right off my bed and hit the floor with a loud thud. I groan and look at myself in the mirror. Yikes! I look like a Capitol citizen with bed-head. After my poor attempt at trying to tame the wild beast that I call my hair, I looked for something to wear. I rake through the drawers, until I find something that was isn't so…flashy. I find a midnight blue t-shirt and some jeans and throw them on with my brown sneakers. I walk into the dining room and find The other four already at the table. When I sit down, I'm immediately served what seems to be eggs.

"It's an omelette," Maria tells me "It's filled with cheese, ham, and vegetables. It's good," I pick up my fork and knife and cut off a bite size piece. I hesitantly bite in. Warm and melted cheese fills my mouth with tender ham and crunchy spinach. It's so good, that I finish it in less than ten minutes.

"So…" Amber begins to say "Do you guys have any skills that could be helpful use?"

"Not unless you count having nimble fingers," Maria says "My job back in the district is folding paper,"

"You're a craftsmen?" asks Ryder. Maria nods. "Great. You should know how to use a knife from carving," he says

"What about you, Parker?" Amber asks

"I'm pretty good with axes," I respond

"Try to give the audience a good show then," says Ryder wiggling his eyebrows

"Ryder, he's only twelve years old. He wouldn't exactly play well as a bloodthirsty killer," Amber scolded him

"Why not?"

"What do you mean why not you dummy?!"

"But why can't we just-"

"Guys!" Maria shouts "Remember us? We're the twelve-year-olds from District 7 that are about to get slaughtered?". Both of our mentors look over to her with their eyebrows raised. Then everything around us became dark as we enter a tunnel. As we enter the darkness, I catch Amber pinching the bridge of her nose and Ryder smiling at us with his arms crossed. The five of us go into the main room of the train and watch a recap of the reapings. I see a lanky boy from District 1 whom no one volunteered for. A loud-mouthed girl from District 4 who's almost positive that she will win. I'm vaguely aware of the interviewers grumbling about how there are not one, but two twelve-year-old tributes from Seven. A daughter of a past victor from district 8. And a set of seventeen-year-old fraternal twins from Ten.

As we exit the tunnel, the entire world is filled with light. A white-hot, blinding light that bounces off the centurion skyscrapers of the Capitol. Maria and I simultaneously rush over to the window. Even Amber and Ryder's faces are filled with awe. The first thing that pops into my mind when I see the Capitol: Unnatural. The buildings painful shades of yellow that make your eyes water. The dogs on leashes have pink and purple colored fur. And the nature, oh what have they done! What little grass that reveals itself is a bright neon green. The trees look like giant lollipops. I'm now starting to wonder if even the golden sunlight that streams down is artificial, too.

As we pulled into the Capitol station, my opinion of the Capitol sails down ten points. Crowds of Capitol citizens rush over once they spot a tribute train. Up close, you can see how much they are altered. A man with talons on his hands instead of fingernails. A child with eyes that have demonic ruby red irises. A cat with jewels inlaid into its ears. I visibly cringe when I spot a woman with four breasts instead of two. "You guys!" Ryder calls to us over the noise "From this point until training, you'll be put into the hands of your stylists and prep teams. Try not to scream, okay? Okay!". Maria and I look to each other with bewildered faces. Then the train doors open and my ears vibrate with the cheering of the people who can't wait to watch us die.


	3. The Chariot Rides

**Chapter 3**

**Maria's POV**

I am _so_ happy that I'm only fourteen years old. Which will probably be the only time for the rest of the trip. My prep team encircles me one more time wielding tweezers. As of being young, I barely have any body hair, which is making the makeover a lot less treacherous. Their eyes scan my naked body one more time. All they've done so far is wax my upper lip, trim my eyebrows, and they cut about five inches off of my hair. Even with the haircut, my hair reaches the middle of my back.

After finishing the hair removal, my prep team started to do the rest of me. They filed my nails into uniform shapes, and rubbed moisturizing lotion into my skin. I started to relax once the painful part of the makeover was complete, and I finally start to get a look at my prep team. A woman that's putting a clear coat of nail polish on my toenails looks like she's wearing the sky with her soft blue skin and fluffy white dress. I think that her name is Liana. A man named Demetrius, who has a bright yellow afro, is rubbing my arms down with some lilac-scented oils. He looks he's wearing a piece of popcorn on his head. Another man named Yolo has deep magenta tattoos trailing up his cheekbones and forehead is filing my nails. "I think she's finished!" announces Liana.

"Yes! Let's call in Azalea!" says Yolo excitedly. I'm assuming that Azalea is my stylist.

Demetrius presses a button on the table and a calling buzz sounds, and Liana, Demetrius, & Yolo scurry out of the room. I grab my robe and pull it over me, tying a double knot. After waiting for a few minutes, the white doors slide open to reveal my stylist. My first impression of her: _Definitely _a Capitol citizen. She has bone-straight golden hair the flows down to her thighs. And I mean _literally_ golden. Her hair is dyed a shiny, metallic color, as if she shampoos her hair with molten gold. Her eyelids are smeared with a sparkling silver eyeshadow. Azalea's lips and nails share the same color. Curving lines trail up her legs from inlaid precision-cut stones. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds…Azalea looks like she was born in a gemstone mine. Besides these transitions, her body seems to have no other alterations. Her skin seems to appear naturally tanned. Her eyes, their natural color of ocean blue. Azalea is wearing a clinging pink dress. She doesn't seem too grotesque. She can't even be more than twenty-five. If she went without all of these alterations, I'm sure that Azalea would be naturally beautiful. But of course, this is the Capitol. Nothing is natural here. Nothing. "Could you take your robe off for a moment, Mariposa?" she asks me.

"You can call me Maria," I tell her as I undo the tight knot.

"Alright then, Maria," she responds in her moderate accent. "Could you turn around for me?" I turn in a slow 360 as Azalea stands there, assessing what she has to work with. "Well Maria," she begins "You _are_ fairly pretty. I _love_ your hair. It's long and dark…like a chocolate waterfall. I could do wonders with your tan skin. Make you as radiant as the sun. But you're from District 7," Azalea sighs. She makes coming from the lumber district sound like a bad thing. Azalea catches my look of discern. "Don't worry," she reassures me "Put on your robe. We'll have lunch," I do as she says, and she leads me to two plush couches across from each other. Azalea pushes a button on a table between us, and full course meal comes up. There's a creamy basil soup and some sliced steak with a soufflé for dessert. "So Maria," Azalea says once we finish the meal "I believe that the typical green tree and paper outfits are totally overdone,"

"I don't see where you're going with this," I tell her slowly

"You'll see," she says as she winks at me.

About a half an hour later, Azalea tells me to open my eyes. I take one look in the mirror and throw m arms around Azalea in a hug. I'm in a dress. I still look like a tree. But the season happens to be autumn. My dress is covered in intricately sewn patterns of leaves in vermillion red, brilliant orange, mahogany brown, and golden yellow. I'm wearing sunset orange ballet flats, and there's a canopy hanging over my head dangling the vividly colored leaves. Golden ribbons are woven through my chocolate tresses. I'm a maple tree in early November. And I love it.

In the city circle a few hours later, Parker and I are standing at in our chariots led by tan brown horses. Parker is dressed in a similar outfit by his stylist, Breckin. Azalea and Breckin tell us to smile wide and wave to the crowd. Parker and I stand tall and straight with our shoulders rolled back. The doors slam open, and we're overcome with the roaring of the Capitol crowd. I see the District 1 chariot roll out, pulled by pure white horses. District 2, District 3, 4, 5…

Parker looks at me "So, you ready?"

District 6.

"Ready," I say

I hear Claudius temple smith's voice boom in the City Circle "The tributes of District Seven!"

The Capitol crowd's screams are overbearing. For the moment, I hear nothing but mine and Parker's name being shouted in the silly Capitol accent. "Mariposa! Parker!". Both of us are waving to the audience. Someone tosses flowers in our direction. Parker and I both catch one. Parker's is sunset orange and mine is a deep yellow, like our costumes. Parker sends a wink back into the direction of the thrower, and I send a bright smile and put the flower up into my hair. The chariot makes one final circle and stops in a circle of the chariots. President Snow gives us the traditional Hunger Games speech.

After the Opening Ceremonies, we head to the Training Center. I go straight to my room, out of exhaustion and collapse onto my bed wearing a satin nightgown.


End file.
